


heaven's face doth glow

by blueparacosm



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, its disgusting, thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueparacosm/pseuds/blueparacosm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, maybe only once in your life, you meet someone who glows.</p><p>That someone will wrap the gentlest trails of light around your throat, and leave gleaming dust in the darkest parts of you, and you won’t remember what it felt like to have pitch lining your lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heaven's face doth glow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anastasia MY WIFE](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=anastasia+MY+WIFE).



 

 

Sometimes, maybe only once in your life, you meet someone who glows.

People glow differently, some bright and without hesitation, unashamed of the trails of light they leave behind them. Some blindingly, white light so hot and gleaming that they become difficult to look at. Then there's him.

Him. Softly, with warmth. Generously, because no one’s been around to soak up that glow.

Him, with the long brown hair and the nail-biting. Him with the oceans in his eyes and the words of poets beyond his time spilling over his lips.

Him, and everything about him. He just, _glows._

 

-

 

**_March 17th_ **

****

Bellamy bounces on his toes as Murphy throws another left jab- and misses.“You’re going down, string bean,” he taunts, and Murphy shoots him a devilish grin- before lurching forward and wrapping his arms around Bellamy’s abdomen, the both of them topping to the floor. The skinnier boy throws his legs over either side of Bell and puts all of his weight into it, pinning him to the floor. Bellamy looks up at his face, shining with sweat and hair plastered to his full, smiling cheeks. The boy laughs, victorious and just- happy- and for a moment, Bellamy’s world goes in slow motion.

Happy. They’re happy.

“And you were saying?” Murphy teases, poking his victim’s collarbone. Bellamy doesn’t respond, just looks at him with a dopey grin on his face. Murphy returns a lopsided smile, knitting his eyebrows together. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because you’re magic, he thinks. “Because you’re an idiot,” he says, shaking himself out of his trance, and flips them over swiftly, trapping Murphy underneath him. Murphy squirms in protest, screaming and laughing all at once as Bellamy jabs his fingers between his ribs and under his armpits. “Stop! Stop! I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you and everything you have ever loved!” he threatens between gasps of laughter. Bellamy releases him, at last, and takes note that his cheeks feel swollen from smiling and the redness of Murphy’s usually pale face looks hilarious.

Bellamy collapses against the couch, and Murphy climbs up next to him, curling around a pillow on the opposite side. “I hate you so much.” Bellamy stifles a grin and scoots over, draping himself over Murphy like a blanket. His chin digs into Murphy’s narrow shoulder and Murphy gingerly wipes a curl from Bellamy’s eyes with lithe fingers, a frown glued to his face. “People don’t usually do things like that for people they hate,” Bellamy says with a lilt to his voice. Murphy groans. “Don’t.”

 

-

 

**_April 24th_ **

****

string bean

_4:03 PM_

send this to 10 alien daddys

if you get none back you a lonely

intergalactic hoe get five back!!you a super

star slut get 10 back‼️ you a super

space freak

You

_4:06 PM_

Why are you like this? 

string bean

_4:07 PM_

your just mad bc your a lonely intergalactic hoe

 

You

_4:08 PM_

you’re*

string bean

_4:20 PM_

intergalactic blaze it also bring home food pls

 

-

**_June 9th_ **

 

He feels around in the darkness, stumbling over piles of his lover’s dirty laundry, which they both refuse to wash. He stubs his toe on the system of scotch taped paper towel rolls fashioned into a hamster maze for the hamster they don’t have, and prays to whatever mighty being is out there that he didn’t dent it. Because Murphy would know. He gropes around the doorknob, touching everything but- and finally makes his way out of the room and into the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen.

He attempts to open the fridge quietly, as not to wake Murphy. As he squints against the harsh light of the refrigerator, searching for some kind of sustenance to silence his growling belly, a munching sound teases his ears. Do they have rats? “I swear to God, if we have rats.”

“Present.” A low voice rasps, and Bellamy nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns to see the glow of the whites of eyes and a silhouette with full cheeks, chewing.

“Are you- are you eating cereal?”

Murphy points his spoon aggressively at Bellamy, speaks with a full mouth. “Fofsted fakes fo’ your infomashun.”

“In the dark?” Murphy swallows his thoroughly chewed cereal audibly. “The light of your love was enough.”

Bellamy sighs in defeat, retreating back to the bedroom suddenly drained entirely, still hungry. His eyes have only just closed, when a figure bounds from the door to the bed and slips under the sheets, cold feet skidding down Bellamy’s thighs. The figure drops it’s head to Bellamy’s shoulder and nestles a box of cereal between them, and even in the dark Bellamy can feel Murphy’s eyes on him and the smile on his lips.

The younger tucks Bellamy’s warm hands under his chin and sighs. “Tell me about your day, Murph,” Bellamy whispers, and Murphy’s eyes light up as he dives into a full recount of his day working at the bookstore. And Bellamy listens.

 

Like he always does.

 

-

 

**_July 31st_ **

 

“Morning, sunshine.”

Murphy groans and curls his body tighter around the sheets. Bellamy dives on top of him, and Murphy screams into the pillow in over-dramatized agony, swatting angrily at the weight on his side.

“Wakey-wakey eggs and bakey.” The head of curls sing-songs, rocking Murphy back and forth by his shoulders. The lump of sheets screams again, vulgar strings of curse words filling the room like confetti.

Bellamy latches his hands around a pair of pale ankles, and the body attached squirms and writhes as he pulls. “The birds are singing-” There’s a body attached, and Bellamy throws it over his shoulder like a burlap sack. “-the sun is shining.” The body beats it’s fists on his back, kicking and cursing all the way down the hall and into the kitchen.

Bellamy drops him into a chair and violently opens the drapes, and Murphy hisses as the sunlight pours in. “Look, we’ve got breakfast cooking- your favorite, too. Eggs for the Eggmaster.” Murphy stifles a smile and stares blindly out of the window, eyes puffy and squinted half-closed from sleep. His brown mop sits atop his head in complete disarray, sticking this way and that. Bellamy finds it endearing, to say the least.

He waltzes over to the kitchen drawers and runs a dishcloth under warm water, sliding in his socks across the tiled kitchen floor over to the grump in the wooden chair and slapping it against Murphy’s scrunched face. “Ugly people don’t get eggs.”

“So you’re willing to starve?” Murphy mumbles, what little color exists returning to his cheeks as he rubs his face with the cloth.

“Assholes also don’t get eggs.” Bellamy amends.

“Exhibit B.”

“I’m going to launch you into the sun.”

“Please, do it. I’m begging you."

Bellamy looks at him, grinning lopsidedly in disbelief of how his stupid his boyfriend is, (not how lucky he is, no, of course not), and smiling blue eyes meet his as Murphy’s unable to keep his composure.

Bellamy shakes his head, dancing over to the nocturnal boy and pulling him out of his seat only to twirl him, as they both slip around on their socked feet. Murphy grumbles and tries to pull away, but the older man pulls him flush against his chest and moves his hands to his waist, swaying them back and forth to music that only he can hear.

“Let me go,” Murphy grunts, biting his bottom lip to keep from smiling as Bellamy spins him around again and again. Bellamy ignores him, full lips stretching into a genuine smile as he dips his partner, and Murphy laughs. It’s sweet and room-filling. It’s music to Bellamy’s ears.

Murphy’s usual slightly grumpy exterior falls away as he presses his cheek to Bellamy’s shoulder, their fingers laced together as they step from one foot to the other. Murphy sighs, and his breath tickles the other man’s collarbone. “I like-like you,” he mumbles. Bellamy rests his head atop the shorter one’s head. “Like-like? That’s a lot of like, Murphy. I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” he says, and Murphy looks up at him with searching eyes.

“What if I said that I loved you? Hypothetically,” he questions, and Bellamy’s heart skips a beat. He recovers quickly. “Hypothetically...” Bellamy closes the small distance between them- or attempts to- as Murphy’s nose resists. So he tilts his head, and Murphy laughs against his lips, never one to take things seriously enough. Bellamy smiles into the kiss. “Smooth.” the former says, and Bellamy sighs, but not unhappily. Their foreheads touch for a moment, and they’re still swaying, when suddenly a blaring alarm begins to ring in Bellamy’s ears- and a horrible smell creeps into his nose.

“The hell?” Murphy says, pulling away to look around the kitchen frantically. Bellamy looks over his shoulder, expecting the worst.

_“My eggs!”_

 

-

_**August 3rd** _

 

stringbean

_2:09 PM_

i found a puppy i’m bringign it home

 

stringbean

_2:10 PM_

bringing

You

_2:11 PM_

Is it hurt?

stringbean

_2:12 PM_

i wanna name it romeo

You

_2:13 PM_

Murph we can’t keep it...

 

You

_2:25 PM_

Murphy??

stringbean

_3:37 PM_

just bought romeo a sick new dog bowl

 

-

Sometimes, maybe only once in your life, you meet someone who glows.

That someone will wrap the gentlest trails of light around your throat, and leave gleaming dust in the darkest parts of you, and you won’t remember what it felt like to have pitch lining your lungs.

And sometimes you’ll be so lucky as to see that light falling off of them like rain, flooding the room in golden waves. And you’ll never forget those moments.

You'll never forget them.

 

-

Bellamy hugs his knees to his chest, resting his chin atop them as he watches Murphy unabashedly drag himself around on all fours through the living room, a golden-haired puppy snapping playfully at his heels and bounding around him in nothing but pure joy. Murphy tumbles over and flattens himself on the floor, grinning as the dog climbs onto his chest and bows, tail wagging at a speed that would challenge that of light. Bellamy closes his eyes as Murphy’s laughs fill the room and a high-pitched bark follows each of them.

He feels warm.

And when he opens his eyes, and Murphy’s holding a squirming puppy in his lap and talking endlessly about his day at the bookstore and a box of cereal has tipped over on the left and his shattered phone shakes the living room with game notifications and his dirty laundry is toppling over in the corner and he’s calling him an unlovable douche-canoe because Bellamy isn’t listening- everything is glowing.

And it’s him. It’s always him.

 

 

 

_(fin.)_

**Author's Note:**

> leave me feedback bc im an insufferable attention starved little mongrel and i have poor writing skills
> 
> thx for suffering through this


End file.
